


Scherzi Musicali (Musical Play Games)

by Violetta_Valery



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angry Sex, Angst, Catholic Prayers, Emily Arc (X-Files), F/M, Fantasizing, G B Pergolesi, Infatuated Fox Mulder, Inspired by Music, Jazz - Freeform, Jimmy Page - Freeform, June Christy, Led Zeppelin References, Liebestod, MSR, Masturbation, Morning After, Motel room, Motherhood, Music, Music Nerd Fox Mulder, Music References & Allusions, RST, References to Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Richard Wagner - Freeform, Robert Plant - Freeform, Rough Sex, Stabat Mater Dolorosa, Tristan & Isolde, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, music references, on the road
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetta_Valery/pseuds/Violetta_Valery
Summary: This is a sequence of small, smutty and/or fluffy chapters that begin with my own “A Night at the Opera”. You may want to read it first to get the spirit and timeline.Link to "A Night at the Opera":https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602303All stories have Music acting as a sort of secondary character, or a catalyst for a situation. There are no restrictions of genre or period, good Music is good Music!Inspired by feedback I got from readers. Thank you, guys!***Reposted as a multi-chapter story, from a previous series***
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Love-death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love-death  
> (Richard Wagner)
> 
> Suggested listening:  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/6aeoyoYjAptLrWzJkJpCgi?si=hN80O85MRTaFLJHyprub0A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post "A Night at the Opera":  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602303

THE MAYFLOWER HOTEL SUITE, WASHINGTON, D. C.  
Saturday, dawn

Scully opened her eyes to find sunshine peeking through the curtains, her head softly moving over Mulder’s chest as he breathed. The feel of his skin, his grip around her, his scent, it all made her kind of gooey and content. She tightened herself around him. “Hi.”

“Hi, there. How’re you feeling?” the smiley, glowing gaze she gave him, that of a woman who knew she was loved and had just been oh-so-well-fucked, answered him beyond doubt. He pulled her on top of his body so that their eyes were on the same level, then kissed her cheek over and over and held her in a bear hug; she nestled in the hollow of his neck, gently nibbling the soft skin there. He didn’t want to leave the bed, he didn’t want to leave her side, but he had to return his tuxedo, otherwise he’d have to explain to Skinner that the Bureau would receive a penalty charge, because his Special Agent lost track of time in bed with his partner. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to return this for now”, he slid his fingers through her neck to remove the diamond necklace that still lied there, taking the opportunity to caress the tender flesh on her nape. She shivered at the touch and gasped timidly, to what he answered with a grin and a rub of his lips to the side of her neck. “What do you think about spending another night here? It’s the weekend, anyway, and it feels so cozy.”

“I don’t have anything with me. No clothes, nothing.”

“Not that you’ll need any… don’t roll your eyes at me, Scully. I can get your spare that’s in the trunk. What do you say?” there’s the gaze again. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Another smack on her cheek and Mulder’s up, putting his clothes on to get their things in the car and extend their stay at the front desk. “I’ll be back in no time.”

As Scully found herself alone in the suite, she spread herself in the bed and stared at the ceiling, not really looking at anything. There was a kind of magic in the way the sunlight played inside the room, not casting shadows, but reflecting the light colours of the walls, the pastel of the sheets. She lifted them from her body and let herself be inundated by that light and warmth, her own skin refracting the sunbeams. Her hands moved loosely, trying to follow the phantom feeling of Mulder’s touches from last night, feather-lightly from her neck to her chest, through her nipples, through her navel and lower, lower. She felt the stickiness of them between her folds and thighs, and it was a sensation she wanted to cling to. This was their nexus at the most intimate level.

She remembered Wagner. “Liebestod”; “love-death”. English could not translate fully what it meant, or any other language, she thought. “Liebestod”. She remembered her German classes at college and remembered reading “Tristan and Isolde” even earlier, the ultimate love story. She remembered the effect of the music on her, and thought for a moment how her ecstasy in Mulder’s arms felt like a small death, a redemption. In their urge there was no time or consciousness to realize that, but in the peace of the morning after, the comprehension hit her and made her warm. This was the morning after the beginning of a new life, ascended.

Scully felt their stickiness in her melting into liquid, and she smiled at her arousal. Mulder’s phantom tongue found its way into her, so she opened herself with her index and ring fingers as she gently, languidly caressed her clit with the middle one.

_“Shall I listen?_  
_Shall I drink, immerse… Sweetly in fragrances melt away?_  
_In the billowing torrent, in the resonating sound, in the wafting Universe of the World-Breath… drown, be engulfed… unconscious… supreme delight!”_

Mulder entered the suite and heard Scully’s heavy breath. He dropped their luggage, and on tip toe crossed the living area, stopping at the door just before the bedroom. The sight of an illuminated Scully, all marble and fire, drowning in pleasure and sunshine, struck him like lightning. Open-mouthed and starry-eyed, he watched her breasts move up and down as she panted, her hand moving lightly yet faster and faster, and it made him think of Bernini’s Saint Theresa in Rome – and he understood what Scully had said about it. In her own world, she didn’t see him standing there, fully aroused, but unable to move as not to disturb her in her own moment of redemption. As her orgasm hit, wave after wave of trembling muscles, electric shocks and long moans, he felt himself die a little, as he realized he couldn’t possibly love this woman more.

Scully came out of the frenzy, and gaining consciousness again turned her head to the door to find Mulder on the verge of tears. She looked at him puzzled by his face, but opened a bright smile as his expression melted into sheer love and adoration; there was no trace of sorrow there. She opened her arms and invited him in again. “Come here, Mulder.”


	2. Bewitched, bothered and bewildered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bewitched, bothered and bewildered  
> (June Christy)
> 
> Suggested listening:  
> https://open.spotify.com/album/2so70v2boeF065BbF6VcJD?si=VHYwHJblQtCcHrqAy_IOoQ

FOX MULDER’S APARTMENT, ALEXANDRIA VA  
Sunday, 5:00 pm

“Holy shit.”

Mulder was still processing what just happened. He had just spent the weekend in a hotel room, between Scully’s arms and thighs. His eidetic memory was a blessing and a curse, for now he’d be running over and over again every minute from the moment they arrived at the hotel’s bar, to the moment he dropped her by her place almost an hour ago. She’d kissed him goodbye with vows of discretion at the Bureau and while on duty, to which he assured he’d be fully committed, although he still had no idea how he was going to keep the urge of touching her in every moment of closeness. After all these years of constrict affection Mulder had created a huge wall inside him, a wall that now had its bricks crumbled to the ground.

He dropped his handbag by the door and roved around the small, crammed apartment. He was agitated. A red light blinked on his answering machine, and a broad smile stamped his face as he heard Scully’s voice: “Mulder, it’s me… I believe it’s going to take a while before you arrive home, so I just wanted to… well, don’t forget to bring my dress tomorrow, I left it in your bag. And Mulder… I just… it was a very special weekend. I just had to say it again. See you in a few hours. Sleep tight. Bye.”

“So cute, so caring, my Scully!” he couldn’t stop smiling, he felt like he needed the room he was in to be equally filled with smiles. If he could, he would’ve played that message on loop until it lulled him to sleep. He then remembered something and went to the huge pile of boxes tucked in his room, lying on the floor since he got himself a proper bed – actually not he but Morris Fletcher, a heirloom of one of the weirdest experiences of his life *thank you, Fletcher, for leaving me a bed I can actually take Scully to*. After some digging, he found a box of his mother’s old records, a collection he kept before she had buried all memories of their family’s pre-abduction and divorce life inside the Rhode Island summer house. He flipped his fingers through the records and found what he was looking for. *I knew we’d kept this one*.

Pulling a record player from the bottom shelf of the living room stand, he plugged it on, and the silk voice of a jazz dame filled the space.

_“I'm wild again_  
_Beguiled again_  
_A simpering whimpering child again_  
_Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I”_

He remembered his parents dancing, puffs of cigarette smoke and the clinking of whisky glasses, as he watched from the top of the stairs, in secret escapades from his room during a number of low-profile soirees at the Mulder’s. They would hold each other tight, laugh, kiss. Then another man would take his mother for a dance, and as his father went to the wet bar to refill his scotch, engaged in conversation with other guests, the newly formed couple would furtively nibble at each other’s necks, or the man’s sneaky hand would slip to his mother’s ass. He was too young to know what that particular tableau implied, and as his parents’ marriage dissolved after Samantha’s abduction, he suppressed this part of his memory, along with so many hurtful others. The record kept playing, changing from classic tune to classic tune, and he turned it to side B.

_Flying, I feel like flying, I keep trying_  
_To reach the star that hides you._  
_Angel, please don't forsake me, fly down and take me,_  
_I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love!_

Mulder laughed at the song that described his current state of mind so well. He wished Scully was there, so he could spin her around, nibble at her neck and grab her ass across the room. The record would stop playing, and they would fall into the couch and make sweet love the rest of the evening. No scotch or cigarettes required. The scenario made him crave her; he wanted to call her just now, but it was getting late, and they’d both need to be at the basement early next morning. So he reached for his handbag and pulled her dress out, and as he lifted the fine aubergine silk cloth to take a good look, he marvelled at how perfectly it’d fit her body. He slid the fabric through his fingers and smelled Scully in it, a fine blend of fresh flowers, skin and arousal. He caressed his cheeks with it, inhaling her, becoming inebriated by her and unbearably hard. It was as if suddenly she was in the room, a ghostly presence that involved and overwhelmed him.

Falling into the couch, Mulder unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans to release his cock, that now was throbbing to the intoxicating scent of Scully. He grabbed himself and began pumping hard, holding the dress to his face with the other hand.

_There are moments_  
_When my lips adore addressing you_  
_But tonight my lips are only for_  
_Caressing you but how about you_

The silk felt almost, almost like Scully’s lips on his skin. In his pleasure-driven rush he grabbed the dress with his teeth, wishing he were biting her lips. The precum made him slick and his hand ran free, at impossible speed, and that feel was almost, almost as if he was pumping into Scully’s wet core. Far from able to form any rational thought, Mulder slipped the dress down to his cock and thrusted against it with all his might. *oh fuck, Scully…* in no time he came, tainting the delicate fabric with his cum that spilled in jet after jet after jet, and formed an abstract painting on the dark purple silk canvas. He was panting when he heard the unique noise of the record player needle jumping at the vinyl.

Mulder was now thinking about how he was going to tell Scully he forgot to bring back her dress.


	3. Not on a case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not on a case  
> (Jimmy Page & Robert Plant)
> 
> Suggested listening:  
> https://open.spotify.com/album/5A0uMtidm2F9js5NHMozM9?si=9-awkn1VQ-6rAmeGhCE1Xg

SOMEWHERE IN WISCONSIN  
Dusk

Scully jumped in the passenger seat as she woke up, disoriented, with a tiny trickle of drool in the corner of her mouth. A bit embarrassed, she cleaned it with her fingers and, squeezing her eyelids, stared at the window; there was nothing outside but trees, miles of open road and a colour-shifting sky. They must’ve been crossing a national park or something, she thought.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” Mulder was glad she woke up. He could use her company, and the temptation of just stay there, watching her sleep so peacefully, drooling and all, was too much. She looked so damn beautiful asleep he was afraid to lose himself at the sight and crash the car.

“Hey…” her voice was enticingly low, throaty with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“About three hours. You didn’t make it half an hour out of the airport.”

“Geez Mulder, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You’re too cute when you’re sleeping.” He patted her leg lightly, and matter-of-factly left his hand there. She looked down and looked at him, rolling her eyes, so she went for the radio and turned it on, an excuse to discreetly bump into Mulder’s hand and move it from her thigh. He took the queue with a sigh. “We agreed, not on a case…” he just nodded at the remark.

There was not a single station tuning in that God forsaken place, so she went for the glove compartment and found a couple of unlabelled cassettes. “Somebody left these… let’s see what we’ve got here?”

“Sure. Pick one and let’s hear it.”

Scully put the first tape on the radio and pressed play. They heard a husky female voice, very comfortably starting a conversation:

_Hello Marvin? Chantal. It's been so long since we've spoken and I've been so lonely not hearing your sexy voice… I’m glad you called, lover-man! Now why don’t you get all comfortable and let me take you for a ride… I’m all wet and ready for you…_

Scully looked at him with eyes like saucers and laughed. Belly laughed. Mulder thought he was going to melt into a puddle of goo, right there. She never really laughed like that, and it sounded like little bells and sunshine and rainbows. “Mulder, you’re… blushing? Why are you blushing? I’m pretty sure this isn’t one of those tapes that aren’t yours…” Mulder stopped the tape looking a bit startled and tossed it back on the glove compartment, wondering if all sex-line workers were called Chantal. He, “Marty”, was used to having long conversations with “Chantal”, although he’d made the resolution of not calling “her” again from the moment the cat was out of the bag with his partner. “Anyway, why would a guy record his phone sex?”

A high dosage of empathy pumped through his bloodstream, and he was suddenly serious, pensive. “Maybe he’s super lonely and doesn’t want to spend a fortune on calls to Chantal…” Mulder was indeed embarrassed, not for the guy, but for the realization of how much he could understand him; how he’d felt just as lonely for a long time.

Scully was silent now, staring at him. Unconsciously her hand travelled to his leg for a comforting gesture, but stopped before it reached its destination. *we’re on a case* she reminded herself, feeling the need to set the example. “Let’s uh… let’s try the other tape?”

“Sure, it can’t get weirder than another guy’s taped phone sex!”

“You forget this is US playing it, Mulder, of course it can get weirder…” she said with a playful, almost childlike tone. She took the second tape and hit play. Mulder was the one with eyes wide open now, a soft laugh escaping from his mouth as he visibly relaxed and appreciated the sound. He turned up the volume.

“Whoa, now we’re talking! I hope it’s the entire album!” his fingers automatically started tapping the steering wheel, his head mimicking the rhythm. “Do you know what this is, Scully?”

“Of course I do, but I’ve got to confess I was more of a Sabbath teen than a Zeppelin’s…”

“You’re kidding! Sabbath… you never cease to amaze me, G-woman!”

“Oh, then you’re going to like the story when I ran away for a weekend to watch an Ozzy gig with Marcus. Just before I left for college. Ahab was over the roof, not really, when I got home that Sunday evening… it was worth it, though!”

“I’m sure it was… I mean, Ozzy AND Marcus on the same weekend… you rebel! Who’s Marcus, by the way?” Scully remembered it wasn’t the real Mulder she’d told about Marcus, so she just faked a sudden episode of dementia and let the subject go, staring at the darkening sky. They never really talked about the whole Eddie Van Blundht thing, anyway.

“Mulder, this is not the Zeppelin I remember listening.”

“Nope, it’s an album Plant and Page released in 1994. The live recording from a concert I’d have given away a kidney to attend! They put together a band, an Egyptian ensemble and some strings, and reimagined several Zeppelin songs. It’s the highest, most glorious expression of crossover music, Scully… feels like a refined, Eastern-flavoured acid trip.” Mulder was so enthusiastic, discoursing about the original songs and the new songs and how the Eastern beats mixed with the guitar riffs “I mean, did you hear what Page did just there, how he dialogued with the percussion?” and how he didn’t know if Robert Plant copied Janis Joplin’s singing or vice-versa “but that in the early days, of course, in the 90’s his voice got lower and hoarser”, all while drumming his fingers and lip-synching the lyrics. His excitement made Scully smile, fascinated in a way only him could make her. It felt so good to see him unworried and content; that was a rare sight, just as much as her own belly laughs, she acknowledged. Mulder’s eyes didn’t leave the road, but he was, in a way, off to another land in his head, taking Scully by the hand through Kashmir or some Tolkienian landscape.

“You’re such a sensual being, Mulder! Always so… visceral.”

“Like a Zeppelin song?” he joked, caught by surprise at her choice of words.

“Like a Zeppelin song. You can say that.” She couldn’t stop smiling. “I think I might revisit them… new ears, new eyes.”

“Well, you’re most welcome to come to my place and listen to my vinyls. I still have them all in pristine condition. The sound is so much better than on cd. I could give you a Zeppelin musical tour!”

“I’ll hold you to that invitation. As soon as we end this case. I’ll bring the beer…” the sky was pitch black now, dotted by stars one can only see in faraway places like where they were heading to. Scully was worried they’d arrive at the motel and there’d be no place to grab a bite; they’d been on the road for a long time now. “How much further till we get to our newest hole, by the way?” Fortunately, not five minutes later they saw the city’s entrance plaque and the motel billboard right after.

Mulder parked the car and took their luggage of the trunk while she checked them in, thanking God the diner was open until midnight. She opened the door of her room and they stepped inside. As expected, this was another half-star motel that got stuck in a time vortex around the 70’s, but at least the florid linens were fresh, and the room well maintained. He crashed on Scully’s bed and pulled her by the hand, but she held herself back. “Mulder… please. Not on a case.” He even tried to argument that they would only be officially on a case the next morning, when they’d meet the town’s sheriff and get the details of what was promising to be another case of mass hysteria of a tiny population, on a tiny, lost town in Wisconsin. He didn’t stand a chance though, she just walked away and leaned at the front door. “Let’s have something to eat, then you can go back and relax. In your own room.” Talk about throwing cold water.

And so they went to the empty diner, and ate an unimaginative and insipid meal, and barely talked to each other. Scully assumed it was because Mulder was too tired after hours of driving, so didn’t give it much thought. First she was thinking how far they were from Delta Glen, so they could have those fantastic ribs once again when they finished the job, but after a moment, she was really acid-tripping on the music she had just heard. They were almost finished when he moved his hands to get her attention, then bent on the table to reach her ears.

_Kind woman, I give you my all_   
_Kind woman, nothing more_

Damn Mulder and his whispered voice! “Stop it, Mulder…” Scully hissed at him, eyes closed trying to focus on anything but his voice and the sudden wetness she knew was now marking her panties. With some effort she raised from the booth and darted to the diner door, but he grabbed her wrist before she could make it there. He pulled her near again, the thick breath moistening her ear.

_And so today, my world, it smiles_   
_Your hand in mine, we walk the miles_   
_And thanks to you it will be done_   
_For you to me are the only one_

“Don’t do this, Mulder… we agreed…” she managed to loosen from his grip and ran outside to the room door. She knew she’d give in in no time, but she was stubborn as hell to try to make her point. Her body burned and shivered in the paradox of desire. Her nipples peaked and her crotch soaked. Damn Mulder and his whispered voice! He reached her just as she unlocked the door and turned the knob. Before she could escape, his arms were around her waist, his lips found his way to her ear once more, and he closed the door with a kick.

_All life inspire_   
_My freedom has come_   
_I drift through desire_   
_My wonderful one_

The semi-darkness of the room, filled with light streams from the road exit and the neon billboard, made the whole scene ethereal, dreamy. Mulder’s lips were now frantically covering every bit of skin on Scully’s neck, and he couldn’t see where his hands travelled to. Relishing in every touch, he could only feel the velvety skin of his wonderful one, replacing the sensation of the soft fabric of her dress shirt as he unbuttoned it and let it fall to the floor. She held his neck tight and locked herself into his lips, tongues friskily reaching out to each other, and his hands now moved to lower her slacks along with her panties. He felt the damping moist on the lace and grinned at her lips, his cock aching with arousal.

Leaving her for a moment, Mulder took off his shirt and lowered his pants and boxers to the ground, kicking them from his ankles in a sloppy movement, and for a moment he was there, body naked and still, eyes on Scully’s eyes and cock dancing towards her. He then took her in his arms and lifted her until her navel was at his face’s height; light as a feather, he thought he could carry her around like a rag doll, but his longing was too urgent, so he just pinned her to the wall beside the door, his hands holding tight to her thighs and his teeth brushing and biting the tender skin on her belly. Her hands reached his shoulders for leverage, as she felt herself slipping away, short-breathed and gasping at each tiny bite.

Slowly and carefully, he let her body slid to the point their sexes could meet. By that time Scully was so carried away she couldn’t speak, her lips opened and closed without forming a single word. She wanted him to know how much it hurt to not let him touch her before, how badly she anticipated every opportunity to have his skin – any bit of it – on hers, how unnerving it felt seating by his side for hours in a car, so much she had to force herself to turn her face away and sleep. All she could do was mumble his name as he slid inside, and when he looked into her droopy eyes, she knew he knew all of it.

Mulder began in slow, deep thrusts, without ever losing eye contact. Scully was on a sensory overload, her skin burned where it touched his hands, his pecs, his shoulders, his crotch that rubbed against her clit with every move. In her own Mulder-induced trip, the scratching of the wallpaper on her back was hardly noticeable, friction increasing with every thump of her body against it.

“How does it feel, Scully… does it feel sensual?” his eyes were so filled with lust for that woman, his voice the husky whisper that could set her off instantly.

“Mmhmm…” she was too far away to respond coherently. She could feel the hot waves of her orgasm building inside her with every bump of his groin and every squeeze of his hands. Her clit was throbbing, pulsing, swollen.

“Let’s make it visceral, then. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” and before she could even try to answer, Mulder sped up his pace to an almost ruthless, hard, deep pounding. Her legs almost escaped their grip on his hips as her orgasm hit her, she didn’t last over ten seconds once he found her g-spot. She was so oversexed, dancing in the tightrope between pleasure and pain, soreness beginning to give its signs. She turned from the hollow of his shoulders to lick the sweat that dripped from his temple to his cheek, and reached the enticing, tiny mole there with her teeth. It tickled.

Mulder kept his pace until he was over the edge. “Come on, love, together. I got you.” He placed his hand on her clit and rubbed it with all his might, and suddenly he could feel there the unique movement of his own dick sliding in and out of her folds. The ultimate union. “Fuck, Scully… oh, Scully…” he came ferociously, closely followed by her own release. Lost in his own sensations, he didn’t even notice her biting his neck until the skin broke. “Oh, my wonderful one.”

Soon they were lying on the floor, Scully’s head on his chest and legs embracing him. Their unique, perfect combination of moist leaked from her to the side of his hips, and without knowing, they were both thinking it felt like an intimate, sticky and delightful token of their love. Mulder ran his hand oh-so-delicately through her forehead, moving away locks of damp, sweaty hair, and kissed her devotedly.

“So Mulder… I guess we’re only on duty tomorrow morning... right?”

“I’m glad you agree with me on this, Scully.”


	4. Mater dolorosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mater dolorosa  
> (G. B. Pergolesi)
> 
> Suggested listening: two very different takes on the same work
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/album/4ZKrF4ihQcpSW7YSHlZs51?si=RZVDqnDKRZiOxMBV0AkzXw  
> (tracks 12-23)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/album/1hlBN7cWvwvs5YqG76870i?si=omVvWNj1Qdm8PODw3lrZWg  
> (tracks 1-12)

ST. JOHN’S CHURCH, ALEXANDRIA VA  
Sunday morning

It had been some time since Scully last attended mass. She wasn’t to blame, she told herself, it was just the routine and too many days on the road and the wish to stay home once she was back. Church discipline has never been her forte, anyway, which didn’t mean she was less of a believer. There were many dwelling places in the Father’s house, therefore God was always withing her reach, inside consecrated walls or not. But she missed Father McCue’s sermons, so that Sunday before Easter she decided to go.

“My dear Dana, how good to see you here!” Father McCue held her in a tender embrace when she came to see him after services. “How are you? How’s your family?”

Conversation went on in light, friendly tones, when a woman approached them to greet the priest. “Hello Father, thank you for welcoming us to your church! We’ll be at the sacristy organizing our things. When can we begin the setup and sound check?” She was followed by a group of six women, all of them carrying folders, music racks, metal cases and a hanger each, with black evening gowns. Father McCue pointed the way to the party and advised them to be at the altar as soon as the parishioners were gone and the church was empty.

“Dana, today at 5pm we are hosting a concert for the Easter celebrations. These lovely ladies will be performing Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater, I’d be delighted to have you with us. Will you still be in Alexandria at that time?” Scully thought this was the perfect opportunity: she could call Mulder, maybe have lunch with him and drag him to the concert with her. He never steps into a church on his own accord, so it’d be something of a novelty for him. He likes novelty. It’d also be a chance of spending time with him out of their own apartments or any hidden place, without scrutinizing Bureau eyes staring back. She had a shy smile on her lips when she told the priest she’d be there, amused at the thought that she was going to have a date with Mulder on a church. Nothing could be ordinary in their lives, could it? She said a fond see you soon to Father McCue and grabbed her phone once she was outside.

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me. What are you doing right now?”

“Hey, Scully! I ah… right now, I’m going through my vinyls trying to find ‘Physical Graffiti’ for you.” But not really. Mulder was actually bored as hell. He would never admit he was still on the couch at almost 1pm, exactly where he slept the night before, and was tossing his basketball across the room, trying to form dirt patterns that resembled crop circles on his wall. He’d never admit as well, but from the moment they left the basement on Friday, to just now when he heard her voice through the phone, he’d felt adrift. It was becoming ever more difficult to be away from Scully. He knew it wasn’t mature or even healthy, this constant longing. He didn’t really care.

“Well, then get dressed, I’m taking you to lunch in about… fifteen minutes.”

“Whoa, I might need a few more if you want me all neat and smelling good for you…”

“Clock’s ticking, Mulder, don’t make me wait!” she hung up with a grin. Even though it’d been her choice to spend the weekend by herself, leaving the “Led Zeppelin music tour” Mulder promised her for after Easter, Scully missed him and the anticipation of the meeting was making her slightly warm and pink on the cheeks. No doubt about it, she was utterly and irrevocably in love with this man. She parked her car and moved unhurriedly through the corridor, to his door, and listening a muffled sound from the shower, she waited a few moments so that she could synchronize her silent entrance with him getting out of the bathroom. Hopefully she’d catch him at ease.

And indeed, she did. So, so at ease heading toward the door where she now stood, in all his glorious wet body and dripping hair straight from the shower, the towel adjusted just as if he knew she’d be there to play peek-a-boo with the track of soft hair below his navel. “Hey, G-woman.”

“Hey, you.” He drew near and cupped her cheeks, the sensation of water drops in his hands chilling her blush as he held her for an afflictingly slow kiss. “Cut the crap, Mulder, I’m going to get wet!”

“Well, that’s the plan…” he couldn’t resist the innuendo, laughing into her lips, his index finger now tracing a feather-like, tantalizing random pattern from cleavage to neck, neck to lips. No longer cool, Mulder’s fingers burned into the deeper layers of her skin an invisible, indelible marking, intoxicating and ouroboros-infinite. Scully couldn’t help but gasp and try to bite his finger, her hands moving to loosely scratch his lower belly, just like he thought she would. “So, you happened to be in the neighbourhood and decided to kidnap me? Where is it that we’re going in such a hurry?”

“I was at the church, for mass, and that’s exactly where we’re going after lunch. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Oh, am I being kidnapped to get married..? You rascal… but seriously, no time not even for a quickie?”

“Shut up, Mulder!”

“Well, you’ve just washed away your sins… I’m pretty sure your soul’s safe to sin a bit more…” One more minute of Mulder-groping and Scully was sure she’d be wet in the way he intended it.

“Go dry yourself and get dressed, we’re leaving in… five minutes. That’s five more that I’d already given you.” She pushed him away playfully, but to her surprise and downfall, he loosened and dropped the towel to slap her butt with it, then moved his wet naked body away to his bedroom. *damn you, Mulder…* she couldn’t do anything else but to follow, finding the door strategically ajar.

“Please tell me I have more than five minutes, Scully…” she just rolled her eyes and fell into his barely towelled arms.

*****

With an afterglow that only great sex and a fed tummy can give, Scully and Mulder were finishing lunch at a small place near St. John’s Church, when she finally revealed her plans to take him to the concert. She slipped a flyer with the program to him; it contained bits and pieces of history on the composer, the work, the Latin text and English translation aligned in elegant print. Mulder read it attentively, even though he was familiar with the piece. His mind, always racing, hovered between the mournful words of the liturgy to Mary and the sensual drama of the melodic lines he remembered, and he wondered how Scully would react to it. He was fascinated by her response to Music since that assignment at the Kennedy Center; her mind and heart seemed to strip of all restraint, and she’d reveal herself at her most raw. Mulder craved that understanding of her innermost feelings, not as a subject of study, but as a means to feel closer to her in the most intimate level.

“So Scully, you like your Italian baroque?”

“This is probably the first time I’m listening to this particular music, but I know the text very well from Catholic school. It is extremely poignant in describing Virgin Mary’s pain and mourning as she stands by her martyred son. Verses and verses of sorrowful poetry, in the most opulent 13th century-Catholic text style. It’s very touching, actually.”

“An explosive combination of music and text...” As he returned the program to Scully and she placed it back in her purse, another small piece of paper slipped from it. Mulder caught it before landing on the floor. He stared at the colourful, somewhat worn out portrait of a smiley birthday girl and handed it over to the mother, staring back at her. She hastily took the picture from his hand, and stopped a moment to look into the girl’s blue eyes imprinted there. “Were you thinking of Emily when you decided to stay for the concert, Scully?”

“I always think of her, one way or another.” The sound of her daughter-that-wasn’t-meant-to-be’s name on her ears felt like a stab. She quickly put the picture away and returned Mulder’s gaze. “If you’re implying this is because of her, it’s not. Collateral damage, I guess. I was just thinking of taking you on a date.”

He took her hands on his, and there was only love and tenderness in his eyes as he kissed her knuckles. “Well, my date, odd as this request sounds, please take me to church!”

*****

They walked peacefully to the church, Scully mostly lost in thought, Mulder mostly lost in Scully. The pews were sparsely filled, and they managed to get a spot on the second row, centre, with a good view of the musicians that would soon position by the altar. Instruments, racks and scores were already there, and Mulder noted they were going to play it the traditional way, string quartet and basso continuo. Not ten minutes later, Father McCue showed up and waved at Scully, visibly happy to see her there, and addressed the audience to announce the presentation, thanking everyone for their presence. The ensemble walked in, followed by an older lady who Scully recognized was the conductor. She thought it was beautiful to see an all women group, so austere and proud.

“Scully, pay attention to the opening of the first duet. You can actually imagine Mary’s gaze slowly raising from the floor to the cross as the melody progresses.” Baton up, and it began.

_Near the cross his anguish sharing_   
_Stood the mother near despairing_   
_While her Son was hanging there_

Scully’s mind began to race with memories of two years ago. A murdered mother. Melissa’s voice on the phone. A sick child, poked and tested and tortured by men for no honourable reason. Such cruelty, oh God.

_Hers the soul so devastated_   
_Sorrowful and desolated_   
_That the sword to pierce did dare_

Her throat felt clenched, there was a bitter taste in her tongue. Exams in her hands. An adoption rejection. Mulder’s revelations in front of a judge. Green, toxic blood. The girl’s cry in that hyperbaric chamber. A coffin with nothing but sand and a gold cross inside. Mulder’s flowers.

_Near the cross to stand beside you  
 _And to share the grief inside you  
 _That is what I want to give___

____Virgin of all virgins splendid_  
 _With me do not feel offended_  
 _Let me weep along with you_ _ _ _

She felt Mulder’s hand holding hers in a soft squeeze. He reached to dry an errant tear from her cheek, and she didn’t even flick, so immersed by the music, absorbed by her own mind.

Scully suddenly felt angry. How did she see herself as a mother? Was this desire hers or a deeply rooted construction, engraved in her psyche from birth, by family and religion and society? Was it a result of hormonal changes as she matured? The look in Maggie’s face when she told her she was barren was heart breaking, and infuriated her at the same time. She loathed the word, barren. As if she were a mere receptacle, with no individuality at all. What did it mean to be a mother? She looked at these spectacular women in front of her, producing Art from wood and strings, from their vocal cords, from the wave of arms. That was creation. That was giving birth to something incredible, no less than bearing a child.

_When my body is arisen_   
_May my soul, all sins forgiven,_   
_Rest in Paradise with Thee._

It was over, there was applause echoing in the nave, and Scully came back to the moment. Father McCue thanked the audience and saluted the musicians, and then approached her as the church emptied. She introduced her partner, and at that moment she realized that whatever creation she would leave to the world, however feeble or insignificant, she wanted Mulder to be a part of it. Because Mulder had become an intrinsic part of her, no matter how she rationally tried to separate them as two functional individuals.

That night Scully stayed at his place. She felt wild as she took the lead and shoved him to the bed. “Fuck me, Mulder.” He tried to slow things down a bit, undressing himself and then her, but when he stopped to kiss her lower belly and slide that last piece of fabric from her hips, she grabbed his hair furiously so he was now staring at her from below. “Fuck me, Mulder.”

He obeyed. “Harder” she demanded, he pumped heatedly. “Harder. Into oblivion, Mulder.” And gathering strength from that amazing woman, that hurt woman that carried sorrows and burdens from them both with such might, Mulder sped up, thrusting himself to the hilt with force until she came, crying. He followed right after, pouring his seed and soul inside her. Spent, he cocooned Scully and kissed away every tear from her face. He went to slip from her, but she held him there. “Please. Stay inside, let me feel you in me a little longer.” She felt them there, entwined, and decided she wanted to be filled with Mulder for life. She wanted to create life with him.


End file.
